Without A Word
by iwilltry-tocarryon
Summary: Short two-shot based on sentence prompts from a lovely friend on tumblr. After the war with the patriots, Charlie feels out of place, like something is missing. Going off, she soon realizes she isn't alone, but Bass isn't there to stop her.
1. Chapter 1

Life after the patriots, for the most part, had been quiet. Rachel helped Gene in town, taking care of the residents and providing medical care for all. She remembered life before the blackout and wanted nothing more than to get back to a stable life. One where they weren't constantly looking over their shoulder for the next threat, or waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Rachel, this was as close to normal as she was going to get, and for the first time in a long time, she was okay with settling.

Of course, she didn't settle down alone, Miles followed her as per Charlie's pep talk, encouraging him to give it a shot. He had loved Rachel, practically his whole life, and Charlie's blessing was icing on the cake, sealing the deal. He was good at other things before the blackout, but war drained him, mentally and physically. Going back to his roots, he tried once again to open up a bar, hoping this time some whiny, annoying, pain in the ass, brat kid wouldn't show up and turn his life upside down. Although, he was never more thankful for a person coming into his life than Charlie. A positive and influential figure on his life, she had a huge hand in shaping him into the man he was today. Less plagued with grief, anger, guilt, he was now free to live out the rest of his life in contentment.

Charlie however was a different story. She went willingly with her mother and Miles, even helped them both, dabbling as medic and barkeep. Nothing she ever did seemed to satisfy her the way she felt before when there was a goal and enemy to defeat. Back when she felt she had a purpose. She would never admit it out loud, but fighting is what kept her going, fueling her momentum, and now that it was gone, she was crashing.

She wouldn't tell anyone this, but Bass knew, he could see it in her eyes, in her body language. She doubted her own skills, and questioned where she belonged with the fight over. Bass knew these feelings and thoughts all too well, if he weren't tired himself, he would probably be feeling the same way. He had enough fighting to last a lifetime, and when a position opened up with the local law enforcement in town, he all but jumped at the chance. Of course, someone else was running the show and calling the shots. Bass was not cut out to be a leader that much was fact. He didn't mind taking the backseat on this one, it gave him time to spend with Connor, and even help Miles out at the bar from time to time.

Sitting at the bar one evening, drowning her boredom and sorrows in Johnnie Walker, it took all she had not to creep closer when hushed talk about fighting broke her out of her reverie.

"It was somewhere out in the plains nation I heard," one guy spoke up.

The other man paused before speaking, "what the hell you goin' on about now?"

"Remember that fight club wannabe shit in New Vegas? Well I heard some guys were forming a similar thing, only this is real deal fighting, not that dirty ass, grimy shit."

"They just fought a war, what's the point in beating the shit out of each other now?"

Charlie could hear the guy shrug, "beats me, I guess they're tired of twiddling their thumbs, you know how those kind of men are."

The guy's voice dropped to such a low whisper, Charlie strained to hear, "I heard talk of them preparing."

"Preparing for what?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, I'm only going off what I heard."

And that was enough for Charlie. She remembered New Vegas very well, and while she agreed it was filthy, there was something thrilling about it. Granted, at the time she didn't think so, she was only concerned with killing Monroe. But looking back on it, during her second trip to New Vegas, there was something poetic and enticing about the fighting that took place.

She smiled and shortly laughed to herself, never imagining those thoughts would be her own.

"What's so funny kid?"

Snapping her head up, she met Miles' curious gaze as he wiped down the countertop.

She shook her head, "nothing, just thinking."

Without missing a beat, she stood up from the barstool, "thanks for the drink Uncle Miles. I'll see you around."

Pulling her arms through her jacket, she offered him a light smile, which he returned, but not without confusion etched across his face. Her tone was laced with a sense of finality, like she was hinting at something. He didn't get a chance to ask her about it, a hand shot up signaling they wanted another round, but he made a mental note to ask her what the hell was going on with her lately.

He noticed she didn't seem to be herself lately, shit, even Bass noticed it and mentioned it to Miles many times. If Bass could pick up on it, then it must've been painfully obvious.

That wasn't the case, it wasn't noticeable, but Bass knew her better than she knew herself because he was her at one point.

So as soon as she left the bar, cool air rushing from behind to dislocate pieces of hair from behind her ears, he followed her.

Bass just finished working and intended to get drunk at the bar, it was a shitty day, but thankfully it was over. He made it halfway there when he saw Charlie out of the corner of his eye, lost in thought. It was unusual for her not to always be glancing around, taking in her surroundings. She was always on alert. That was his warning sign.

She only made it a few steps when she felt it, that all too familiar feeling. It was his presence, "what?"

Barking the question out, she didn't bother to turn around.

She didn't have to turn around because when she raised her head, she met his gaze dead on, "where are you going?"

"Home."

Brows knitting together and a frown forming on his lips, he shook his head, "where are you going Charlotte?"

The enunciation of her full name, and the effortless way it glided off his lips irritated her to no end.

Putting her hands on her hips, she rolled her eyes, "I already told you, Monroe," she spat out his name in the same manner he did, "I'm going home."

"Listen, I don't have time to talk you out of doing something stupid, I've had a long day and I'm tired. But believe me, I know that look when I see it, and it's all over your face."

Mutely she said nothing, who was he to tell her what to do and what not to do. She never listened to Miles, whom she loved and mildly respected, why in the hell would she listen to Monroe?

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair, "just…don't do anything stupid right now okay? Wait until morning, you're not thinking clearly."

His voice started out in a quiet, low tone, but by the end Charlie could tell he was losing his patience with her unreadable expression.

"Whatever idea you have forming around in that crazy little head of yours, just forget it," he snapped at her, pointing a finger at her in a scolding manner.

She got enough of that treatment from her mom, with the occasional disapproving glance from her grandfather, she didn't need it from Monroe too.

As soon as he skulked away she made up her mind, she was leaving. Not because of what he said, if anything he was wrong.

For weeks she felt like she was living in a haze, murkiness surrounding her on all sides, offering zero visibility. She couldn't see the path in front of her, or below her feet, yet she mindlessly kept walking in hopes of clarity. Eavesdropping on the conversation at the bar shattered all of the engulfing fog. Her mind was the clearest it had ever been.

She was leaving. She knew he would get mad, but she did it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn't even stay and tell them in person, or do the decent thing, as Monroe suggested, and wait until the morning.

Instead she crept away, like a thief in the night, the only thing stolen, wasn't stolen at all, it was lost. She lost her sense of direction, of purpose, of self, you name it.

She left some half-assed scribbled note, apologizing for something she didn't feel the least bit sorry for. Sure she should've considered how they would feel, waking up to find she never came home and was no where to be found, and had no knowledge of where she was going.

But if it were any consolation, Charlie didn't even know where the hell she was going herself.

Still she left the crumpled note haphazardly placed on the dining room table, caddy cornered in the kitchen, next to the windows draped with curtains Rachel made upon a whim.

Truthfully, Charlie aimed to avoid the backlash of her mother's wrath and Miles' sarcastic comments. She lived on her own without them before, and that was when they all had targets on their backs basically. There was no reason she couldn't do it now.

Bass' POV

Getting drunk off his ass sounded like a good thing, in theory. He forgot the part where recovering from a hangover gets worse as you get older. It wasn't a walk in the park during his teenage years, but this felt like what he imagined getting run over by a semi-truck would feel.

Miles' obnoxious, apprehensive voice echoing through the thin walls of his house didn't help the thumping headache vibrating on either side of Bass' head.

"Bass, get up," he could feel Miles nudging him roughly with the toe of his boot, all he did was grunt and shift his arm to cover his face more.

"I need your help now. It's Charlie."

He couldn't help the reaction, suddenly, all traces of a hangover vanished leaving him in a panicked state, "Charlie…what do you mean? What's wrong?"

Miles waved his hands around frantically, trying to urge Bass out of bed. Taking the hint, he rose, dressing as quickly as possible before Miles would even speak again. Shoving his foot through one boot, he peered up at Miles expectantly.

"She's gone Bass."

Confusion was evident upon his weary face, "gone, what do you mean gone?"

Miles huffed, trying not to direct his anger towards Bass, "I mean she's fucking gone, how much clearer can I be? She's not at the house, the bar, with Gene, with Rachel. She's nowhere around town. Hell, I checked the jail cell thinking maybe she opened her mouth, you know Charlie, and got herself arrested. She was in a pissy mood last night."

His ramblings went on, but Bass stopped, immobile as he willed his lands to lace up the remaining boot.

With the thoughts of last night slowly coming back to him, he remembered seeing her, that look in her eye. Damnit, he should've made sure she didn't do anything stupid, but he only cared about forgetting his own troubles, not about adding more to his plate. How could he have been so stupid?

He continued gathering his stuff, but Miles could see he was not all there, "what is it?"

Bass looked at him as they made their way down the hall, "it's nothing. I just, I saw Charlie…last night."

Wrinkling his nose up in disgust, then anger, Bass held his hands up, "I didn't touch her, I swear. I just saw her on the way to the bar."

"Well why the fuck mention it Bass? I don't have time to listen to this unless," turning his head to Bass, he stared at him for a moment, "what aren't you telling me?"

He sighed, shoving Miles out the front door in case he started throwing punches, "okay listen, I had a shitty day yesterday, so don't fucking blame me."

As soon he dropped the advisory warning out in the open, Bass frowned, "I saw her, and I don't know, she had this look in her eye like she was about to do something stupid—"

Fury seethed off of Miles' body as his face formed a snarl, "so you did nothing? Didn't bother to tell me my niece seemed upset while you were draining the bar dry?"

"Hey, don't blame me, you're the one who noticed something off about her. Not my fault you didn't take the time to figure out what it was. Besides fuck you, I did stop and tell her to get whatever she was thinking out of her head. Clearly she listens about as well as you do."

Chest heaving in and out in anger, Bass bumped Miles' shoulder roughly as he passed. It was always his fault somehow, even when he didn't have a damn thing to do with it.

"I'm sorry okay,' Miles' soft voice carried to where Bass was already ten feet ahead of him.

Stopping in his tracks, he lowered the gun he barely had time to grab on the way out of the house, to point at the rubble beneath his feet.

He got it, if it were Connor missing, he would be acting the same way, probably worse. At least Miles was better at directing his anger to just one person. Bass was like a hurricane, spreading out for miles, inflicting his wrath on everyone in his path.

Finally he turned around, "okay, so at the bar she didn't say anything about what was wrong?"

Miles sadly shook his head as Bass grew annoyed, "fucking think Miles, you were a goddamn ex-Marine. Who was there? Where was she sitting? Did she talk to anyone? How long did she stay? Who did she leave after?"

Apparently firing questions at him worked. Bass could see a light going off behind Miles' dead eyes, "she didn't talk to anyone specifically, but she was listening in on a couple people's conversations. Seemed interested in both of 'em. I thought she was just occupying herself, she always seems bored."

Bass nodded, "now you're thinking. You take one and I'll take the other, cover more ground. What did they look like?"

With that, Miles shut his eyes, piecing together every miniscule detail about these guys, blurting out anything coming to mind. When Bass got enough information to go on, he parted ways with Miles, promising he would meet up before he made another move.

That was a lie that rolled smoothly off his lips. If he got a lead, he wouldn't have time to wait for Miles, and come up with a plan. Charlie moved fast, and she was damn good at making sure no one else could find her if she didn't want to be found. If he got a lead, he had to jump on it.

Unfortunately, he didn't even have to beat it outta the guy. Bass closed in on him and he started spilling his guts right there, singing like a canary. Bass had to shut him up eventually because he could care less about anything other than what Charlie might've heard, what peaked her interest.

He came up empty, story after story he heard this man drone on about. How much could two people really have to talk about? It wasn't until he mentioned fighting that a red flag shot up. If he knew Charlie, and he did, that's where she would be. Her face read disgust and repulsion whenever she talked about New Vegas, but he knew for a fact Charlie enjoyed the thrill of the fight.

Not the killing part, that was never something Charlie liked. But the fighting was enticing, thrilling, he could tell by the sated look on her face after every battle. The way her eyes sparkled when she came up victorious. She would be there.

Briefly he considered going around town to find Miles, but he hadn't a clue where he was and it would've taken more time. Time they couldn't afford to lose, not if this place was anything like New Vegas, not with Charlie there by herself.

The only thing good about the hick town they now lived in was, everything around it was flat. If he moved fast enough he could be there by nightfall. With the pace he was going you would've thought there was a fire under his ass. He would definitely make it there before the sun completely set.

It looked identical to how he left it, the only changed thing was him. Eventually he ran across a town, live civilization, where he stumbled across a local barkeep who knew what he was searching for.

His directions led him to a much nicer establishment, rather than the pop-up tent look in New Vegas, sitting along the outskirts. That's where the barkeep said to go for a good fight.

This was nothing in comparison to New Vegas that much was obvious the further he moved towards the place and away from town. Bass hadn't encountered this, not in this post-blackout world anyway. One the inside it looked orderly, structured, like whoever managed it ran a tight ship.

Sleazy, shady bullshit in New Vegas he was used to. The only purpose being to entertain the people and give em something to watch. He couldn't even tell what the purpose of this kind of fighting was, and he observed for awhile. There was no exchange of diamonds, or any other form of payment for that matter.

He watched opponent after opponent sink to their knees, while the victor never once faltered, or letting up on the assault. New Vegas was simple, it was all about show, what drew the crowd and what they would respond to. This had nothing to do with showmanship and everything to do with an outright display of talent and strength.

Tapping his foot against the concrete ground, he surveyed the room every couple of minutes, afraid his hunch was wrong when he didn't immediately spot her in the crowd. His body went through a million different emotions upon seeing Charlie, mostly feelings of relief.

It was Charlie all right, he would recognize that perfectly round, tight ass anywhere. He should with all the time spent gawking at it from behind as she childishly stomped ahead of him. Besides that distinguishable feature, he spotted her long hair, usually flowing by her side emitting a luminesce halo was now bound tightly up on the top of her head.

It was Charlie, but if it hadn't been for her ass, he wouldn't have recognized her.

Without thinking, he marched over to where she stood quietly observing the match going on. He knew she could sense him as soon as he got close.

She stiffened and winced as his hand latched onto her elbow, "what the fuck do you thinking you're doing Charlotte? This is opposite of what I said last night."

"Never said I was listening," she mumbled, refusing to let his digging nails affect her composure.

Attempting to pull her, Bass was surprised when she didn't budge, "let's go Charlie, we're leaving. This isn't the place for you to do your soul searching. Go on a hike or for a run."

With a strength he didn't know she possessed, she ripped her arm away, "that's the biggest double standard I've ever heard. You don't know me, Monroe," she bitterly threw his words back.

"Maybe this is me, the person I am now, maybe its not. Point is, I'm going to figure it out myself, without Miles, or my mom, or even you telling me I can't. How's this any different from your romp in New Vegas?"

"Jesus Charlie, I was in a bad place, a fucking dark place then."

Recognition exploded through his body after uttering those words. That's exactly why Charlie was here tonight. She was in a bad place too, she was drowning. He should've recognized the warning signs. Little by little her former self-faded away until she was nothing more than a rock, dead weight heavily glued to the bottom of the ocean floor so far down, the only thing above was hollow darkness.

Difference between him and Charlie was she had people who cared about her. People who were adamantly hunting for her and wouldn't blink at the thought of killing anyone that touched her, whether or not she signed up for it.

And why wouldn't she have all those people standing on the sidelines, protecting her, Bass himself was one of those people.

He didn't argue with her, he didn't talk to her in a condescending matter like she was a child, he didn't fight her on the matter. He could see how important it was to her.

He had been in the same boat, going along the same uphill stream, without a paddle, just like she was. Bass could understand how she was feeling and the appeal of it all, hell he could think of worse things for her to be contemplating.

She saved everyone, in one-way or the other. She saved Danny by jumping in front of Strausser's gun, willing to let him blow her brains out in order to protect her little brother. She saved Jason from turning into one of those batshit crazy super soldiers who were puppets on a little, teeny string. She could've saved Rachel if there was anything redeemable to save. She saved Miles, many times, undoing all the damage and whipping his ass into shape before it was too late and he went off the deep end. And she sure as hell saved him, in more ways than one.

The girl, who saved everyone, couldn't save the one person who mattered…herself.

Somewhere along the epiphany, his gaze softened as Charlie's brows furrowed. Letting go, he ran a hand violently through his hair, tugging at the roots.

His eyes snapped to hers, "follow me."

Without any protest, she trailed behind him, weaving in and out of people until they were at a better vantage point to see what was going on.

Bass pointed to the smaller of the two guys, "is that who you're fighting?"

Looking to Charlie for confirmation, she nodded as he exhaled a sigh of relief, at least it wasn't the heavier man. Although in Bass' experience, the tiny ones were the people to look out for. They were quicker, more agile, but Charlie was smart, perceptive, and highly intelligent, plus she took direction well.

"Bass what are we—"

"We aren't doing anything," he curtly cut her off ignoring how heavenly his name sounded passing through her lips.

His mouth twitched into a half smile, "you're going to stand here and listen to everything I tell you alright?"

She nodded vigorously, rolling her eyes, motioning for him to carry on with whatever the hell this was.

Tearing his eyes away from her, he studied the man carefully, taking in everything he saw in order to best direct Charlie on how to proceed.

"He's small and fast, but the good thing is, you're smaller. He has quick reflexes, but he always has a brief hesitation in his eyes before he strikes, like he's processing or something. Don't bother looking anywhere other than his eyes, that'll tell you what you need to know. Besides his footwork is shitty, in fact, if you can trip him up once, he'll do the rest of the work for you. His gait is off balance…on the left side, kick him there if you can."

Watching as the guy took in another huge gasp of air, he pointed again, "also his lungs are weak, he keeps struggling for breath every few seconds. If you can tire him out and deplete all the air in his lungs, he's likely to pass out from exhaustion or get even sloppier."

She nodded to herself, letting Bass' advice sink in as she herself fixated her gaze on the fighter's form.

Seconds later, the other man was down, making that the third consecutive win of the night for this guy. There was no clapping, no cheering, just two other men dragging the slumped over, bloodied body of the loser off the otherwise pristine mat.

Somewhere off into the distance, he heard her name being called, chill sinking down into his bones.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Laughing nervously, she shrugged her shoulders, smiling up at him, "little late for that now don't you think?"

His eyes locked with hers, not backing down as he lowered his face so it was within inches of hers, "I'm serious Charlie, say the word and I'll get you out of here. I don't give a shit. If you want to leave, we'll leave."

Words registered in her mind as she shook her head, stepping around him.

She didn't even get to put her foot down before Bass tugged her around, roughly gripping her face in between his calloused, worn out hands.

Giving her no time to object, or him any time to think about it, he molded his lips against hers, forcefully shoving his tongue further into the crevice of her mouth.

Rising up on her toes, she pressed her body tighter up against his solid physique, running her hands up and down every contour of his body before finally breaking the kiss.

She didn't look at him again as she tore her lips away and rushed by. It took every ounce of control in him not to whisk her away and fuck her senseless. If she wanted a violent, physical activity, he would be more than happy to accommodate.

He didn't though. There he remained, awkwardly standing, his nails digging into the palm of his hands enough to draw blood. He wasn't used to be on the sidelines, and it was hard not to jump in the first time the guy barely clipped Charlie's face.

Though it was hard to watch, he couldn't help but marvel. She had become quite the warrior. She was always a good fighter, but out there, watching her feet glide around the other guy as though she was skating, he was impressed.

Sidestepping, and dodging a lot of his punches, Charlie tired him out some, Bass could tell by his sluggish posture. He almost wanted to laugh, but the second he saw Charlie's eyes dart to the guy's feet, and the side of his fist connected with her jaw, the smile vanished without a trace.

He wanted to burrow his feet further into the ground, like at the beach in order to stabilize yourself in the sand and keep yourself from drifting further into the pull of the ocean. Only the ground here was made of solid concrete, and the pull of Charlie's body was strong than any ocean.

The second blow, to her stomach, forced her to stumble backwards and was enough to kick Bass' ass into gear.

Propelling forward with the intention of intervening, he skidded to a halt, dumbfounded when she weakly straightened her back, preparing for another attack.

Blood pooled just below her lip where his fist struck, causing it to split open. And if he wasn't already hard with the images of her valiantly fighting forever replaying in his mind, the sight of her tongue jutting out to clean the wound and remaining traces of blood did him in.

Blood was always alluring to him for some twisted reason, but he never thought about it being a turn on. Of course, anything involving Charlie could be made erotic, she was just so fucking captivating.

That however, was the furthest thing on his mind at the moment. Well maybe not the furthest, but it was on up there.

Watching her deliver a swift kick to the guy's left leg, knocking the guy momentarily off his feet, he felt a since of pride coursing through his veins. She actually listened to him.

That pulse turned into a dull throb as the guy reared up and rammed into her, using the full weight of his body to knock her solidly to the ground.

**What she was doing was pretty fucked up, **never once did she quit, never once did she hesitate, waver, or stay lying on the ground for long. Hit after hit, blow after blow, she kept coming back like a glutton for punishment. What she was doing was pretty fucked up, **but he couldn't help but admire her guts.**

Guts were one thing, stupidity was another, and right now Charlie was displaying full on stupidity. Didn't Miles teach her to keep her stupid to a minimum?

Lifting her head weakly, Bass winced as he watched it jerked up and down in exhaustion. The final blow, square in the middle of her face, put her down for good.

She may have taken a beating, but she sure as hell didn't make it easy. The other guy himself was pretty banged up, and just barely still standing.

When two men came up to remove her, like garbage from the mat, a low, animalistic growl roared through the building. It took him a second to realize the sound came from within, "DON'T. Don't fucking put your hands on her."

In three long strides he was across the room, pulling Charlie gently into his arms, cradling her body softly against his.

Slowly, ever so gently, he brought them outside, tucking her in closer to his body, careful of her injuries.

A groan escaped her lips, sending him into panic mode until she cracked a small smile and opened one eye, "how badly do you think Miles is going kick my ass for this?"

Bass chuckled, the sound rumbling, "probably worse than that guy, but if we bring you home like this, maybe he'll wait until you heal first."

Charlie heartily laughed, closing her eyes, she hummed against where her head had slumped onto his shoulder, "thank you Bass."

Saying nothing, Charlie answered his unspoken confusion, "for letting me do this. For not telling me how much of an idiot I am, and for only slightly yelling at me. Thanks for not dragging me away like a caveman…like you could have."

"Charlotte, by now you should know, I would let you do almost anything. But the next time you're feeling froggy, come find me and I'll put that to good use."


End file.
